


Amortentia

by KaedeRavensdale



Series: Holiday Drabbles [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A small sad Valentine's day fic, Code: Red, M/M, Sort of Valentine's day fic, it happens on Valentine's day so that's good enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 18:41:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13687533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaedeRavensdale/pseuds/KaedeRavensdale
Summary: Wanting the protections offered by 'love' for himself, the Dark Lord treated with the Light to end the war in return for Harry's hand in marriage. Unable to bring himself to love his nemesis, he turned to Amortentia. A century later and lying on his death bed the Boy Who Lived has a confession to make.





	Amortentia

 

 

                Rain pattered softly against the window of the grand manor, trickling down the glass. The trees outside, their needles a deep emerald green which reminded him painfully of the other wizard’s eyes, heaved in the wind. It was Valentine’s Day and the weather, overall, reflected the Dark Lord’s mood.

                ‘ _How long has it been now? Since the truce?_ ’

The truce. The way in which the war had ended where neither side had paid for the crimes they’d committed in the eyes of the other. Both Death Eaters and Order Members wouldn’t see ‘justice’ for their actions; Blood Status would be of no consequence; the Magical and Muggle sides of Britain were permanently separated and Magical orphanages were set up; his last remaining Horcrux, contained within that damnable boy’s scar, was moved to a proper container; and, seeking the power and protections of Potter’s capacity to love for himself, Voldemort had received his hand in marriage under the guise of sealing the truce. But the boy had known.

_‘And how long since **that** day?’_

Harry had agreed knowing it was the only way to end the war without further bloodshed. Without any more of those he cared for dying. And he’d tried; making a valiant effort to love the man who had destroyed his life time and time again. But even the Chosen One’s heart hadn’t been big enough to do what had been asked of it. The boy had failed.

_‘A century.’_

A hundred years. A hundred years since Harry, desperate not to see Britain spiral once more into war because of his inability, had presented an alternate option.

‘ _A century of dosing him, and all at his request.’_

 Pouring the contents of the shrieking tea pot into a pristine china cup before setting it aside, Voldemort lifted the small vial of pearlescent fluid in his blue-tinged talons: Amortentia.

_‘And now the last time: Valentine’s Day. The day which Muggle’s set aside for romance.’_

 A foolish concept, in his mind. Why withhold romance from your relationship just to make one day special when it would be better distributed throughout the whole of the year. Fresh flowers from the garden gathered in crystal vases and speckled with silver dew. Sand and stars and the sighing of the waves. Trees crowned in leaves the color of flames and the air perfumed with spiced cider as it began to grow cold. A red and gold scarf wrapped around a pale throat, nose bitten red and green eyes glinting behind snow-spangled lashes.

‘ _We both agreed the concept of this day was stupid; back then our reasoning wasn’t the same. But now, I think, I see his point.’_

Pouring the potion into the glass as well and picking up a spoon the Dark Lord mixed it into the tea until the liquid was a uniform color before he lifted the saucer and left the room. Climbing the stairs on quiet feet to the second floor and entering the bedroom which stood at the end of the hall. Lying in the bed, almost swallowed up by the sheets around him, was Harry his emerald eyes clouded with advanced age and his once black hair pure white. When he set the cup and saucer down on the bedside table with the clatter of china, the once-raven turned his head to look at him with tired eyes. There wasn’t much time left.

“I need you to drink your tea, Harry.” He said. “Even if it’s only a few mouthfuls, you need your medicine.”

“Medicine.” There was a wryness to his voice, so dry and weak that even with the Dark Lord’s inhuman hearing it was almost inaudible. “That won’t be necessary, Tom. The chance I’ll see tomorrow is slim; it’s time I came clean.”

“Came clean?” he repeated, red eyes narrowing and his posture going stiff. “What do you mean?”

“The Amortentia.” Withered and shaking, the Boy-Who-Lived pulled the comforter tighter around himself. “My magic is failing. Could you renew the warming charm?”

Lord Voldemort’s magic was just as spry and able as it always had been, his Horcrux preventing his ability to further age, and he renewed the charm with a wave of his hand. “What about the Amortentia?” he demanded, paying little mind to the mumbled thanks of the figure on the bed. “When you brought up the arrangement for my consideration you made it clear you wanted my choice to dose you or not not to be made known to you so that the affect wouldn’t be endangered. And the last dose-.”

“Shouldn’t have worn of yet?” the other smiled. “Love Potions only make you love someone if you don’t already love them. It stopped working eighty years ago, Tom.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because I didn’t want to face it? Because I knew it wouldn’t matter; you wanted to be loved for the protection it would give you, but you’d never love me in return, so what point was there?” He looked upset, for just a moment, but then that face-once brimming with youth and passion but now etched with wrinkles and shadowed with exhaustion-settled back into the same resting expression he’d worn for years now: something resigned, in some ways, and sad in others. “Either way it was easier to keep taking the potion instead of bringing it up. To live in a slight haze. But there’s no point in lying now. I’ve been in love with you for eight decades, despite everything, and never said a word to anyone. So, really, there’s no need for that tea. I want what little time I have left to pass without that haze; it’s been too long since I’ve had clarity.”

“Harry-.”

“It’s Valentine’s day, isn’t it?”

After a long pause, Voldemort said “yes.”

The once raven laughed; years ago the sound would have rung warm and strong, but now it was dry and thin like the rest of him. “What a day to die.” Even after all these years and with one Horcrux left to protect him, talk of death still left the Dark Lord visibly uncomfortable. His pale eyes, barely discernable as green now, rested on him. Seeming to almost be sizing him up.

“Is there something that you want, Harry?”

“I know that you don’t do well with death, Tom.” He said. “But will you lay with me? Please.” Voldemort rocked slightly on his heels, hesitating. Harry looked away. “Never mind. It was too much to ask; I’m sorry. I just thought…I’ll be gone soon.”

Gone. Gone and despite his power, despite his personal triumph over death, there was nothing he could do to prevent it. If only a part of their truce hadn’t been removing the Horcrux from his scar: Harry would have been immortal too, then. Forever young.

The aged male started slightly when the bed depressed beneath the other’s weight, turning his head again and blinking at him in surprise. Nothing was said but Voldemort pulled him close; dropping his face into the pale locks and Harry rested his head against the Dark Lord’s collarbone, closing his eyes. His breathing slowing to a stop.

The Dark Lord held the little wizard as the rain continued to patter against the window, the light fading as the sun began to set. Staring at the blank wall opposite the bed and pondering the knowledge of the fact that Harry Potter had been wrong, all along, about two important facts.

That he, the Boy-Who-Lived, could never fall in love with his once nemesis.

And that Voldemort, the Dark Lord, could never love him back.

 


End file.
